


Shiver

by blackhawkcawcaw



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Best Friends, Comedy, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Magic, Quidditch, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26985058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackhawkcawcaw/pseuds/blackhawkcawcaw
Summary: Rosalie Mallard lived an extraordinarily ordinary life; life in a sleepy seaside village in Cornwall with her mild-mannered father was perfectly uneventful; until something entirely extraordinary happens.Now thrust into the wizarding world, she must learn to find her feet at a time more tumultuous for a young witch than most. She finds her new home at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, with it a set of trouble-making best friends; Fred & George Weasley.As time goes on, Rosie learns some truths are harder to swallow, but not all of life's burdens have to been carried alone...particularly when one twin takes it upon himself to carry these troubles...and that has nothing to do with his alarmingly confusing feelings he has developed for his best friend.✵also posted on wattpad
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/Fred Weasley, George Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Kudos: 2





	1. prologue

**[ p r o l o g u e ]**

The air was sweet with the mixture of smells; lavender, salt, and the scent of grass after a summer rain.

A man and child walked hand in hand, the little girl swung around her father's arms in circles, screeching and giggling in delight. Daisy chains tangled in her blonde hair, and a crown she had made adorned upon her father's head, collecting shells of many assortments for her bedroom windowsill. It's just the two of them walking along the dunes in the late-afternoon sun, the wind off the sea beating down on them, making their grins chapped.

It's always been this way; just the two of them, Daniel Mallard and his bright-eyed daughter Rosie, in their quaint village, on the sleepy seaside in Cornwall.

✵

They have a routine; rise early in the morning to get a walk along the shore before her schooltime, dropping her at the gates bright-eyed, red-cheeked, and in a tangled mess of hair brought upon by the cool sea breeze. He waves his daughter goodbye for the day, his heart aching, watching her sprint inside.

He spends his day in his cottage, writing, and painting; a retired art history professor and academic who yearned for a sleepier existence and found it, leaving behind the race of the city. He was a man with a mild temper, an introvert by nature who enjoyed the serenity their lifestyle offered. He was a marvellous artist himself, and Rosie spent hours on the weekend watching him paint, and at times he would take her under his wing and show her how he drew his landscapes. Watercolours were his favourite. On warmer days he would take his easel outside to get an idea of his next picture. He had a steady flow of clients who he had built over the years, his work renowned across the country.

He often got caught up in his work, and the morning sprawled into the afternoon, busy with his occupation, which he could get lost in for hours. The grandfather clock chimes three and he begins his walk back to the school gates to await Rosie's departure from school. He would often take the added effort to surprise Rosie with a treat from their local bakery, holding it behind his back as she comes running out of the school gates and barreling into his arms. Berry and custard pastries were her favourite. She sees her father standing there, and she barrels towards him in a hug, not yet at an age-old enough to feel embarrassed by the affection given to a parent. It's this innocence he wants to hold on to forever.

"Dad!! Look, I drew you a picture! Look!".

"Did you, love?"

"Yes! I used watercolours as you taught me! It's you, and me, and we're standing outside our home".

They walk back home, Rosie sprinting to her father's piano as she bursts through the door, itching to run her deft hands over the keys. The ivory of the keys stained with age cracks lining it like a river. The deep red woodwork itself splintered from the sun and wood stain. It was an old instrument her father fell in love with long before she came along. Her father played so elegantly. It was mesmerising to her.

Rosie had been committed to playing like him for quite some time, but there was a magic in the way his larger hands ran over the notes, barely skimming but creating a soft angelic tune, with little effort apparent. Her favourite pieces he played were the more mournful, lamented tunes.

"Scales first, love" Daniel reminds his daughter from the kitchen where he makes their cups of tea, hearing her jam the keys between her small fingers, impatient to play the new tune he taught her the previous day. She'd started drinking tea with milk like her dad, taking the habit after noting that all intelligent people in the books she read drank tea religiously. It made her feel mature, refined like she had some wisdom to impart, of which she truthfully had none from her short span of life. But she could imagine she did.

On warmer days, they'd take another walk along the beaches before sundown, a path through the dunes leading straight from their cottage to the shore. They come back inside, cheeks red and golden hair tangled from the brisk sea mist, Rosie setting the table as her dad cooks. She loves the familiar smell of her dad's cooking as she finishes her homework.

They'd settle down for dinner under dim light, and watch a little television, before she falls asleep in his arms on the couch, cradling her into her room for bed. He lays her down, and with her eyes closed, she misses the worry etched over his ageing features. He runs a hand through his salt and pepper hair and quietly closes the door behind him.

Rosie doesn't see the times her father looks at her, almost as if she were a ghost of his past. She doesn't understand yet that she looks exactly like her mother; sandy blonde hair, curved nose, green eyes, and freckles peppering her tanned face. It was like looking in the mirror.

✵

The first time he noticed something was peculiar about his child was on the eve of her eighth Christmas. A harsh winter's day, rain pelting against the windows. She had cabin fever being cooped inside like some caged animal, with nothing to do and no friends to see as they were all out of town. It was times like this that she wished she had an abundance of siblings; or even just one other; a big brother perhaps. She used to ask Father Christmas for an older brother all the time. Nearly all her friends at school had older brothers.

"Rosie, please don't run around the house! You'll break something!" Her father called exasperated, trying his best to concentrate on his work, but knew his livewire child was in one of her energetic moods that could not be stopped.

"But I'm so bored-... oops!" he heard her small voice call followed by the smashing of glass.

"What was that, love?" Daniel called from his small studio out the back end of the cottage.

"N-nothing!" Rosie responded. Meanwhile, the girl was staring at the broken picture frame of her mother scattered on the floor. It was the only physical possession she had of what her mother looked like, who had passed when she was an infant, too small for Rosie to remember her face otherwise.

Her mother's passing had been very hard on her father. Rosie didn't understand her father's reluctance to talk about her mother, or for that matter to keep many reminders of her around their home. She always wished she could remember her in finer details; the sound of her voice, the feel of her hair, her arms bundling her into a warm embrace, but she could not. Rosie would sometimes imagine her mother coming to her in a dream, but the picture was hazy, her voice nondescript, her eyes unreadable.

A picture was not enough for Rosie. It wasn't the same as a physical manifestation of her, but it was all she had.

The frame itself was one her mother had bought at a flea market in Oxford, where they had once lived as a cohesive family unit. For that reason alone, it was the most precious thing to Rosie; because her mother picked it.

And there it was, the glass shattered, and the woodwork split in half.

She felt the hot tears rush before she could control them, so overwhelmed by a wave of grief. "No, no, no... please" she whispered in a panicked fervour. She tried her best to pick up the broken pieces, cutting her index finger in the process with a stray glass shard, causing her to sharply flinch her hand away from the mess and nurse her bleeding finger, sucking on the wound. It tasted metallic and warm. Blinded by the sharp pain, and acute heaviness in her chest, all she could do was cry.

"Love?" her father called again. Hearing his tentative steps approach the living room, she curled up into a ball in despair, afraid that despite his calm demeanour, he would be upset with her. The girl sat, muttering "must fix it", over and over in a blind panic. By this point, her father stood in the doorway, nursing his cup of tea. He rushed quickly over to his daughter, wrapping her in his arms so she would know it was okay, broken picture frame be-damned. She heaved into his chest, overwhelmed by her own emotions. She wasn't the type of kid who typically cried on a whim. She didn't cry over scraped knees, broken bones, children being mean. But she did cry, purely out of her frustration. She wished she could've taken back what had just occurred.

A sudden blooming sensation in her chest caused the girl's breath to falter, slow tears suspended in her eyes. She felt so foolish losing her emotions the way she did, but it was a mistake she could've prevented. She wished more than anything that she had been more careful. Perhaps then, her one possession of her mother's would not be destroyed.

Her father felt her tense in his loose embrace and turned his head to where the clatter of wood and glass lay, turning as he heard a small tinkling sound. Suddenly, the glass started to tremble and vibrate, nudging itself and adjoining to the adjacent piece of glass, as if the frame itself were shattering but in reverse to piece itself back together slowly. The woodwork wove itself together like glue.

He nearly dropped his tea.

Rosie by this point, felt her father freeze as he held her in his arms, and looked up, hearing the small clatter of glass too and her eyes widened.

"What's wrong Dad?" she asked, half-marvelled, half-petrified that she too was seeing things.

"How-..." he was at an utter loss for words. For a man of logic and science, he could not conjure an explanation for this. He turned to his daughter, however, and spotted a look in her eye, less alarm perhaps than the look he wore, but as if she was not surprised by this anomaly at all.

As if she had created it.

"Is this you doing this?" he whispered. They both tentatively crawled over to the frame, which now lay whole on the rug, as if it were a spooked animal.

"I-... I don't know. I felt... I wanted to fix it" Rosie whispered back to her dad, hands shaking, cheeks damp with a river of forgotten tears. She then looked into her father's eyes and simply stated "I just wanted to fix it".

✵

It was four days after this that a man Rosie had never seen before came knocking at their cottage door. She swung it open, expecting her neighbourhood friend Lucy, back from her holiday early, but came face to face with a man so unlike any she had ever seen before. He stood tall, donning rich navy robes, a strange hat to match, and a beard reminiscent of Father Christmas. The look in his ice-blue eyes was unfamiliar but familiar all at the same time.

"You must be Miss Rosalie Mallard" the gentleman bowed gently, not overstepping his mark on the doorway, allowing the girl to make her mind up.

She eyed him carefully and simply responded "Yes, I am", and she held out her hand for the strange gentleman to shake. He gently took it in hers, a lightning bolt of energy suddenly coursing through her veins, causing her to step back, not in alarm, but fascination. She glanced up, noticing the twinkle in his eye. Before she could ask what that was and exactly who he was, her father called from his office.

"Rosie? Who's at the door?" her father called from his office, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he leant around to peer down the hallway, a man standing on the front step. For the second time in the space of a week, he nearly dropped his tea.

"Albus Dumbledore, at your service".

✵

Daniel escorted the strange man into his office, telling Rosie (who was impatient to know what was going on) to wait in her room, and shutting the door behind them. She snuck out to lean her ear against his office door for better hearing, but they were speaking so frustratingly low that Rosie couldn't catch a single word they were saying. Peculiar to her was that she could usually pry her ears from behind the wooden door to hear the goings-on from her father's office. It was almost like somebody had placed earmuffs over the entire room. Rosie let out a huff of impatience and instead focused her task on pacing the room and staring at the clock suspended from the wall, willing time to dissipate.

Much to her annoyance, this almost made the time drag slower.

An hour or so later, the door swung open and Rosie tried her best to appear busy with some mundane task, settling on tracing her hands along the bookshelf in front of her, appearing as if she were picking a book to read. She nearly gasped at the opening of the door, having grown used to the near-complete silence. Her eyes were sheepishly wide, and she stared at the two men at the door, both casting her a suspicious look.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Thank you for inviting me in Mr Mallard, and Miss Mallard, I look forward to furthering our acquaintance in the future" the strange man spoke, and before she could blink the man was off and out the door. Rosie ran to the window, squinting as she struggled to peer down the cobbled pathway in the dark that led to their front door. The man had entirely vanished.

Daniel stood suspended in his thoughts, brows knitted further than before. He had a lot to think on.

✵

Daniel tried his best, but letting the reality settle in was another thing entirely. Knowing his daughter's life would not be the one he had set out for her, knowing one day she would have to leave him. In an ideal world, he selfishly wished none of it had ever happened, just so he could keep her under his watch, at least until she was truly ready to leave home in his eyes. Eleven was far sooner than he had initially planned.

However, he knew he could never deny her what her birthright was. Whether he had wished for it or not, fate had other plans for his daughter; and so for appearance's sake he embraced it with open arms, and she was none the wiser to her father's internal conflict.

After meeting with Albus Dumbledore, he knew he would have to be the one to explain it all, despite the man offering his services graciously. So that same night he sat down his daughter, and they talked, staying up until well after midnight, Rosie could barely contain her glee at the news. It seemed unbelievable. Daniel explained it as best he could to her, and as he would answer one question, the number of questions she had would multiply.

Endearingly, the first question she had for him when he told her she was a witch and that magic was real she asked: "Does this mean Unicorns are real?".

It was particularly in moments like this that Daniel wished he had his wife by his side, to share the experience but equally to share the load. He did his best for his daughter on his own, but it was more challenging still, living an isolated existence without anybody to offload his anxieties to. He had done this parenting thing entirely on his own, Rosie so young when his wife had passed. It left a hollow ache in his heart when he thought about it for too long; that her mother couldn't see her baby now.

But the world was a cruel place in Daniel's eyes. It was why he packed up their life and moved to the other end of the country, somewhere he knew would provide his daughter as much happiness as possible. He always did his best to sugar coat life for his daughter, still so young and full of thoughts all bright and wondrous. But he knew one day he couldn't protect her, and it was coming a lot sooner than anticipated.

✵

Life past this point was changed, the cloud looming over Daniel's head when the day to her eleventh birthday approached ever closer. Rosie was ecstatic of the fact, knowing there was a whole world out there for her to see, one hidden from everyday lives, feeling special to be part of the best-kept secret, except this was unlike any schoolyard secret she'd pinky-sworn not to share. This was visceral; it was all around her.

The day had then finally arrived; her eleventh birthday. The letter had come with much anticipation and impatience. She had been checking the mailbox out the front for many months prior, sometimes dreaming it had come sooner than expected. But no; right on the dot of April 15th, no sooner, no later, Rosie was holding the letter in her shaking hands, which she discovered perched on her pillow once she burst through the door at home after school.

She immediately dove onto the soft duvet, ripping open the brown parchment to find an enclosed letter addressed to solely her.

_**HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY** _

_Dear Miss Mallard,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

_HEADMASTER: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

"Dad, I'm going to need an owl!".

✵


	2. chapter 1, the departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie gets her first take of the Wizarding World, and she catches the eye of a certain pair of twins.

**[c h a p t e r o n e , t h e d e p a r t u r e]**

**_[Diagon Alley, 1989]_ **

Having never been in the same room with more than one Wizard in her short lifespan, it was evident to see the apprehension and nerves bouncing off Rosie. Her senses were in overdrive from the sights in front of her. She was not sure what she expected but seeing Diagon Alley, it was beyond her wildest imagination. The streets lined with cobblestones, buildings watching down on the passersby; it was like something out of one of Rosie's pop-up storybooks. She instinctively reached for her father's hand, who stood tall next to her, trying his best to keep his mouth from dropping in fascination.

"This is incredible" Rosie whispered, beaming brightly.

They weaved their way through the busy crowds, Daniels eyes glued to the supply list in his hands.

"Alright, it says here we'd be best to visit Ollivander's for your wand... Now, do you see it closeby?"

"Well if you didn't have your eyes stuck on that paper you would see it's right in front of you" Rosie replied, in fond amusement.

Stepping inside, Rosie was suddenly aware of how quiet it was, in stark contrast to the hustle of the outside world. Rosie glanced up, taking in her surroundings. The store itself was akin to a bookshop she had once visited with her father in Notting Hill.

As she was about to remind him of this a man peered down from the upstairs landing. He was an elderly gentleman, hair unkempt like he had stuck his finger in an electrical socket, but eyes kind and full of hidden meaning. "Ah! Welcome, do come in" the man greeted "Mr Ollivander, at your service, young lady".

Rosie smiled at the man and replied: "Nice to meet you. I'm Rosalie...I'm here to find a wand".

Ollivander smiled at the girl's confidence "I had assumed as much. Well, let's see what we have here". Mr Ollivander approached Rosie and narrowed his eyes, muttering and inspecting her "Ah yes, interesting. I'll be right back".

When he handed her the first wand, she felt a movement, like a tugging as she clasped it in her hands tentatively, as if it were a bomb about to explode. She had never held a magical object before, and her father had told her that her wand was to be her most treasured possession, giving her the capability to practice her magic.

"Give it a wave for me, would you dear?" Mr Ollivander had suggested, but not before standing back from her, and signalling for her father next to her to do the same. Her father's eyes widened but didn't ask any questions as he stood back from Rosie.

She gave it a simple wave, not quite sure what she expected to happen, but was shocked to find that it had conjured a stack of boxes to fall off their shelf in quite a chaotic manner. She jumped out of fright.

"Oh no..." Ollivander began, Rosie was now anxious about the mess she had caused.

"Mr Ollivander! I'm so sorr-"

"That won't do at all...pearwood isn't your match... Another wand then!" and he was off down the back before Rosie could blink.

A few failed attempts later, and Rosie sheepishly tried every wand Mr Ollivander was thrusting into her hands. He had finally settled on one, after much deliberation out the back of his shop.

"This one is... interesting. But tickles my curiosity. Try it for me, would you?".

This wand was light, lighter than the first few, but hummed as she held it in her hands. The deep woodwork was fine, patterns coiled at the handle like a vine, that fit like a jig-saw piece around her small grasp. This wand had an entirely different feeling; like two notes sliding on opposite ends of the piano scale meeting in the centre to create a wondrous chord. She couldn't contain the small gasp of air that left her as she held it.

She looked up and wordlessly smiled at Mr Ollivander, who stood in anticipation with arms folded, an unreadable expression written on his features.

"The wand calls to you. That is fascinating, is it not?" Ollivander spoke, breaking the spell that had been cast between Rosie and the wand, and in the process waving his own wand, with a simple flick and a "reparo". The stacks of boxes and the broken vase flew back into place, as if Rosie had never caused their destruction. Rosie grinned at the man.

"It's beautiful" she responded, a ghost of a smile on her face as she studied the delicate object. The clasp itself was adorned with a carving, weaving around the handle, fitting near-perfect with the curve of her hand.

"We've found your match. Care for it well".

What she missed was Mr Ollivander's curious glance after both father and daughter had exited the shop. There weren't many who stepped foot into his store and made him curious enough to let them try the hawthorn wands. More curious was that the wand itself possessed a dragon heartstring core. He never found many wizards or witches' temperaments that agreed with the wand. It was contradictory, a volatile tool, and perhaps she would, in turn, prove to be a contradictory witch in nature.

She seemed an unassuming young witch, bright and full of curiosity. Something else was buried deep within.

Curious indeed, Garrick Ollivander pondered.

✵

George and Fred Weasley, on the other hand, were excited for their venture to Diagon Alley for an entirely different reason; spying the unfamiliar faces of the incoming students of Hogwarts. It was always most exciting at this time of year. The novelty of the place hadn't necessarily worn off, more the two had been exposed to more magic than most eleven-year-olds.

Having three older brothers ahead of the pecking order also played a large role in this.

Speaking of older brothers; their eldest Bill was coaxing the twins along, sent on an errand from their mother to ensure the twins got their school textbooks. Percy had completely worn his way through the last lot.

This mission was proving more time-consuming than first anticipated; Bill for having to combat not one but two Weasley twins, and the twins for having to stand by as many young female wizards 'bumped' into Bill on their way too and from the shop quite accidentally. The twins had discovered that he was very popular with his female peers, though they couldn't figure out for the life of them why. It was just their brother Bill. A pretty unassuming guy, they thought.

Perhaps it had to do with the esteemed head boy position that year prior.

As one of Bill's old classmates twirled her hair between her fingers, George rolled his eyes and focused his occupation with something else. He failed to understand the nature of teenage girls and he certainly wasn't in any hurry to find out for himself anytime soon.

Scanning the crowds, he took in the unfamiliar faces. Two, in particular, held his focus, because it was blatantly apparent that he had never seen them before, nor had they been here before. It was a taller man, bookish, greying hair, glasses perched on the end of his nose, a timid sort of man, carrying a pile of books under his arm and his other free to guide through a girl through the crowd. The girl - he noted - had brilliantly golden hair, twisted into two messy braids, and a smile plastered onto her face. It must've hurt her face to smile as brightly as she did. She was laughing at something the man - he assumed her Dad - had said.

He'd only caught her for a second before Fred caught his attention with a nudge and a snigger "I swear Bill has snuck some sort of love spell on this lot".

George was only half-listening, letting out a breath of a laugh, but not enough to satisfy his twin.

Before Fred could ask any further on his twin's daydream, their mother called them over from across the way. When George shot a quick glance back to where he was looking, the pair were gone from the crowd. He shrugged and caught up to his brother, who was peering inside the windows of a joke shop.

"If you two think for a second I'm letting you take anything to torture Percy with at school and cause him grief, you're dreaming!" their dear mother Molly Weasley lectured, dragging them away from the shop entrance by the collars of their jumpers, the twins whining in protest. "Ronald Weasley! You get away from those puffskein's right this instant!!".

✵

**_[Platform 9 and ¾ Kings Cross Station, 1989]_ **

The reality didn't truly set in for Rosie until she was stepping on the train's platform, adorned in her robes, and a suitcase clutched in one sweaty hand, and her caged Owl she had ironically named Shivers in the other.

Shivers was grey, like a stormcloud rolling in the distance off the shore. Her feathers shook with incredible ferocity when around noisy places, and for that reason, Rosie had gifted her the name. She was her surprise gift from her father. She had come home from school not long after receiving her letter and found her in her cage in the living room. She gasped when she saw her, turning around in disbelief to see her father smile at her.

He had made it his expressed mission to take a trip to collect her an owl. She was only talking about having an owl every day.

As many other children waved their goodbyes to their mother's and father's, brothers and sisters, Rosie felt a great weight of dread set in, realising her father would leave without her and head back home on his own. For a brief moment, Rosie wanted nothing more than to turn her around and go home with him. But she was here now, and she had been picturing this day for some three years. She would have to be brave for her father and smile.

Daniel was equally giving his best efforts, choosing to settle his nerves by fidgeting and adjusting her appearance, noting her jacket having slipped off her shoulder. Rosie attempted to swat his hand away out of embarrassment, acutely aware that her future classmates were all around her.

"Now, you remember to write to me. I want to hear all about the new friends you'll make, and every new trick you have for me".

"Yes Dad, I promise... But...What if-..." and suddenly a lump caught in her throat, as she felt herself dispel her anxieties. She leaned in closer to her Dad, just a whisper "What if I don't make any new friends? Everybody here seems to know somebody".

His heart ached at her words. Deciding to settle the matter he dropped her bags he was carrying and crouched down, grabbing her shoulders so she would look into his eyes. "My darling Rosie, whoever is lucky enough to be your friend will cherish you just as much as I do. You're witty, kind, and most importantly loyal".

Rosie let out a shaky breath she was holding "You have to say that, you're my Dad".

"Rosalie Evelyn Mallard, you may think I have to say it, but you know I could never lie to you. If I were to lie to you I would tell you that you'd struggle to make friends. But you know I find it entirely impossible to lie" Daniel responded with a matter-of-fact manner, causing a smile to break out on his daughter's face, smoothing over the worry lines that had formed.

"You are pretty terrible at lying."

"Exactly my point!" he laughed.

"I can't promise I will make new friends... but I'll try" she responded, rolling her eyes playfully.

"That's my girl!".

"Dad!"

"What? I know you will, anyway. Just be yourself and the rest will follow"

"Dad, you're embarrassing me!" she hushed a grin plastered on her face as she motioned for him to lower his voice, despite the crowd being more than blissfully unaware of the pair and their conversation.

The train then let out a sudden hoot, breaking the spell between the pair.

A glimmer of worry shone in Rosie's eyes, and her father quickly attempted to settle her. "Now, run along; otherwise the train will leave without you, and I'll be stuck with you! I couldn't bear it, not when you have so many exciting adventures waiting for you".

Rosie giggled, the lump still catching in her throat. She threw her arms around her Dad, embarrassment be damned, holding on to this moment for as long as she could manage.

Rosie let out a shaky breath as she pulled away, wordlessly picking up her luggage and Shivers from her cage, and beginning to turn when her father called out to her.

"Rosie!"

She sighed "Yes, Dad?"

"I love my girl" he mouthed, aware of the noise and distance created between them.

"And I love you" she mothed back, shooting him a wide grin to appease him, and with that, she stepped onto the train, hands trembling and clammy as she did.

Daniel watched on, a heart full of pride for his daughter's tenacity. She looked so small, swallowed up within the crowds of people, but her hair shone through the sunlight, and she held her shoulders back straight, just like he told her to. His eyes didn't leave her for even a second as she disappeared through the trains carriage.

Rosie meanwhile dawdled along the cabin, finding a lot of seats had already been occupied, and knowing this, her anxieties refused to dispel. She felt entirely alone again. Not that anybody was paying her attention, more that she didn't want to bother the groups of students. All of them had settled into their relative carriages, deeply enamoured in their conversations.

She didn't want to overstep her mark.

To her utter relief, she managed to find a seat in an empty carriage, and quietly shut the door behind her, waiting for the train to start moving.

She glanced out the window to see her father not far behind a crowd of waving parents, and with a tug, the carriage began to move. Rosie smiled eagerly and waved to her father, feeling a drop of water fall on her cheek. He waved back, and as the train rolled along and she kept her eyes glued to him, catching a glimpse - though she thought she imagined it - of her father's face looking forlorn, pained.

Rosie turned forward away from her waving father, buried within the crowded mass when she could strain her neck no longer and wiped absentmindedly at the tears that she had barely noticed before were there. She glanced down at her hands, letting out a shaky breath, picking at the skin on her fingers and pinching the back of her hand to distract her slow tears.

"OW!" a sudden yelp appeared, accompanied by a boy bursting into Rosie's carriage, who was nursing the back of his head, glaring at the boy who was following in behind him. She followed his eyesight to the other who stood in the doorway with an impish grin.

Rosie baulked at the sight; they were identical. The first thing she noticed was their brilliantly copper hair, and matching navy knit sweaters. At first glance, it was impossible to tell them apart.

She felt her anxiety bubble again, afraid she was sitting in a carriage intended for somebody else. It was worsened when the two of them, much to her dread, turned towards her.

The two boys noted that the girl was staring at them as if they were ghosts.

The cabin went deadly silent. Rosie wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear. She bit the inside of her cheek.

"Sorry about that, my brother can be a right git sometimes".

"Am not".

"Are too".

"And sorry about my brother, I don't know where his manners have gone". The other stepped inside to join his twin, much to Rosie's dread. "I'm Fred Weasley, this is my younger and less handsome twin George" and as if like clockwork, both boys extended their hands for Rosie to shake.

George smacked the back of his brothers head as the two waited expectantly with outstretched hands.

"I- I'm Rosalie".

✵

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: I'm so excited to be posting this (finally!). I've had this story drafted for a few months and have written well over 40k+ words, so will be posting frequently. Can't wait for you all to read it... prepare for some sloooow burn, angst, and lot's of Weasley mischief.


	3. chapter 2, abrupt introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie get's a Weasley's introduction, and she soon learns she's a fish out of water.

**[c h a p t e r t w o , a b r u p t i n t r o d u c t I o n s]**

**_[Platform 9 and ¾ Kings Cross Station, 1989]_ **

Trust one of the twins (or both for that matter) to make their family run late for their train. They were inevitably always running late for something. With it, there was always some preposterous excuse as to _why_.

This particular morning involved an attempt at setting off some of Dr Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks and in the process setting a pair of Ron's pants on fire, who so happened to be wearing them at the time of the incident.

The twins would argue it was entirely accidental.

Their mother disagreed with that sentiment entirely.

The twins had been here before, to King's Cross, a few times, dropping off their older brothers. Now it was fatefully their turn. To say they were excited was the understatement of the century. Although they would never say it to their dear mother, it was the freedom that made them itching to leave the most. They were two eleven-year-olds ready to fly the coop.

As they pushed their way through the crowds of parents, to race onto the platform, George caught sight of a familiar face and nearly collided with a stranger as he put his foot on the brakes.

"You must be relieved, Ronniekins" Fred nudged his youngest brother, who was dragged along to the station, still having not quite decided whether to forgive his brothers for the trouser ordeal of that morning. "You'll be rid of George and me for _months._ But don't worry, it'll be Christmas before you know it. Who's to say you won't be receiving some surprises in the mail from us too".

"I can't wait," Ron replied, sarcasm dripping in his tone.

As Fred anticipated George beside him to mirror his sentiments to Ron, he noticed he was no longer walking beside him. Fred instead turned to see his twin dawdling behind, staring at something, or someone. He couldn't discern from where he stood.

Fred silently fell in step beside his twin, now able to see from his vantage just what he was looking at. It was a blonde-haired girl, whom Fred had never seen the likes of before. And he knew every wizarding kid there was. He made it his sole purpose. This one, in particular, was quite pretty, which delighted Fred immensely.

George hadn't seemed to notice his twin had caught onto him blatantly staring at a stranger.

"Fred! George! _Please_ hurry up!" Molly Weasley called.

George felt a strong hand smack him across his back, followed by the amused tone of his twin "Daydreaming there, Georgie?".

George's cheeks set aflame with embarrassment, hoping his brother missed him practically ogling a stranger.

Too late.

"I thought I saw one of our friends we met the other week at Diagon Alley" George covered, now eager to pace quickly ahead of his twin.

Fred chuckled to himself. Hardly likely, he thought, he would've remembered a pretty girl like her instantly.

Their farewell from their mother was as to be expected, Molly peppering her boys with too many kisses on the face, sending them on their way. Percy and Charlie went well ahead, quick to find their friends and trusting the twins to make their own trouble, although the twins suspected they wanted little to do with the newest additions to the Hogwarts clan.

Perhaps it had to do with their trouble-making tendencies.

Once Molly Weasley had relinquished her two boys, after much persuasion from Arthur, the two were off in the blink of an eye. Fred quickly turned around, however, as he forgot to remind his brother of one more thing. "When you get home... I'd check under your pillowcase before you sleep".

"What are you talking about" the nine-year-old blanched.

"Oh nothing! Best be off! Keep an eye out for our spider friends, they'll miss us terribly!".

Ron's eyes widened. Fred winked in return and set off to catch up with his twin.

On the Hogwarts Express, the two were traversing their way through the crowds of kids, racing to find a carriage to situate themselves in. Fred, as always, walked slightly ahead of George, assessing the situation. Fred's eyes settled on a particular carriage, and his grin widened. "Ah, look Georgie. This will do nicely".

George glanced into the carriage, spotting the blonde girl from before immediately. What he noticed, however, was her quickly wiping tears from her face. He immediately tugged at Fred's sleeve. "Fred, let's not bother the poor girl. She looks like she wants to be alone".

"Don't be daft, she looks like she could use some cheering up", and before George could protest further, Fred gave him a friendly shove and a smack on the head for good measure, forcing him inside the carriage.

"OW!" George protested, rubbing the back of his head good-naturedly. This had caught the attention of the girl, who sat with her hands pulling at the ends of her lilac jersey out of what George assumed was a nervous habit, her glassy eyes as wide as saucers.

It appeared their sudden entrance had frightened the girl senseless.

George had an unrelenting urge to break the silence. "Sorry about that, my brother can be a right git sometimes", trying his best to make an excuse and cover his tracks.

He assessed her up close, noticing things he hadn't before, like the freckles which peppered her cheeks, the greenness of her eyes, and the gentle slant of her nose.

What a strange thing to notice.

"Am not" Fred shot back.

"Are too" George responded automatically, eyes never leaving the girl's face.

The carriage fell silent, thick with awkward tension which Fred hated more than anything. He'd expected George to step in, but he too was rendered speechless. Fred tried his luck to ease the tension, clearing his throat. "And sorry about _my_ brother, I don't know where his manners have gone. I'm Fred Weasley, this is my _younger_ and evidently less handsome twin George".

George, finally getting his revenge smacked Fred firmly on the back of the head.

"I- I'm Rosalie" the girl - Rosalie - had responded, tentatively reaching out both hands to shake theirs, one in her left and one in her right, making her let out a small laugh at the ridiculousness. Both were surprised (note; relieved) that she had appeared to find this funny.

Her voice was light but held an unexpected strength in it.

"Is it alright if we crash here? We were running a little late ourselves. Unless of course, you're saving a seat or two for your friends?" Fred asked, already taking her introduction as a good a welcome as any, yanking off his jacket and swinging his bags above the shelf, making himself right at home. George was more hesitant to make himself comfortable, worried that she would tell them to sod off. But the corners of her eyes crinkled in light amusement at his brother.

"Well, I don't know anybody else here to save a seat for, so go ahead I guess" Rosie explained, breaking out the smile she had sported back at Diagon Alley, George noted. However, her hands were still wrung around her lilac knit, picking at the ends.

"Are you a muggle-born then?" George asked, realising he had immediately put his foot in it.

"Excuse me, a _what_?" Rosalie asked, with an incredulous expression.

"Sorry, I forget you probably don't know what that means... it wasn't an insult, promise!" George explained, now sitting himself down opposite the girl and next to his twin, closest to the window.

"Muggle-born meaning non-magic parents. As opposed to coming from a Wizarding family" Fred offered.

"Like us!" they replied in unison.

"Oh! Yes, er, muggle-born. My parents aren't wizards. I sort of just sprouted magic out of nowhere really, although it makes no sense to my Dad or me".

No mention of her mother. It intrigued the twins.

"It's not entirely uncommon, you know?"

"Having 'muggle' parents?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh, well, that makes me feel slightly better. I guess..." her hands wrang together once again. "Just a quick question I have..."

They both glanced up to look into her eyes, half-expectant.

"How do I know you're not George, and you're not Fred?". Her mouth was held in a small line of amusement.

The twins glanced at each other, grinning. "An excellent question-"

"- But not something I would worry too much about."

"Our own mother can't even tell us apart from time to time".

"Is this carriage full?" a boy's voice asked, and the three turned to see a shorter boy with jet-black hair standing in the doorway.

"Lee Jordan" one twin grinned, and the other followed "as I live and breathe".

"Surprised you two remember me!" Lee grinned and sat himself down next to Rosie, who shot him a small smile and wave.

"Is that a wizard-thing?" Rosie blurted out of pure curiosity. She had to learn to hold her tongue. They probably thought she was annoying already.

"What?" they asked together.

" _That_ " Rosie replied, pointing between the two of them "Talking at the same time and finishing each other's sentences".

"Ah! No, you see Rosalie-"

"It's a twin thing".

Rosie nodded, relieved they didn't seem to find her question offensive, nor odd.

"Bit creepy, though, isn't it?" Lee murmured to Rosie, making her stifle a laugh. "Rosalie, nice to meet you, I'm Lee" the boy beside Rosie now joined in, holding out his hand for her to shake. These wizards had impeccable manners, Rosie mused. "I see you've unfortunately found yourself stuck with these two geniuses".

"Jeesh Jordan, we didn't imprison her".

"Blink twice if you're being held against your will" Lee whispered to the girl.

"We heard that!"

The twins and Lee shot jabs back and forth, Rosie watching on in amusement quietly, still trying to find her footing.

Unbidden, her thoughts suddenly went back to her Dad, standing there on the platform. He'd be going back to an empty home. What if something happened and she wasn't there? Would he get her letters? Sending a message via owl seemed awfully hit and miss... Did he look sad, or was she just seeing things?

Before Rosie could even dwell on the thoughts of her father, she found herself instead being dragged into a long and wild conversation with her companions. What did not occur to Rosie at the time was that George and Fred had made that their tactic all along, noticing the sad expression that crept in when she was left to have her thoughts to herself for too long.

Fred, George and Lee talked at great length about themselves, their family, their homes, answering any and all questions Rosie shot their way, all of which Rosie welcomed as she preferred it over talking about herself, particularly in front of strangers.

Rosie couldn't quite get over the fact that the twins had five other siblings. It did, however, explain a lot about themselves. Why they were so outgoing, so confident, and so easy to make friends with. They'd probably fought over the attention in their households, being jammed somewhere in the middle of the pecking order.

She had to admit she was also envious of their position; having had three older brothers who all had gone before them, paving the way for them, meanwhile, Rosie would be chucked entirely into the deep end.

One of their siblings was even Head Boy that previous year, Bill Weasley.

"He's just gone to Egypt though, a curse breaker working for Gringotts" George explained to Lee and Rosie.

"Mum wouldn't stop weeping for three days after he left... it's not like travelling to Egypt is _that_ hard".

"But surely flights are expensive, and it takes a good few hours to fly there and back" Rosie offered. The twins and Lee exchanged glances, and then Rosie clicked on, heat rising in her cheeks. "Oh - right... I forget you wizards can just go anywhere".

"' _You Wizards_ '" Fred shook his head in humoured disbelief.

"Speaking as if you aren't one yourself, Rosalie" George laughed good-naturedly.

Rosie simply rolled her eyes but struggled to keep the smile off her face.

"Only explanation I have for her crying is that he's clearly her favourite".

"I feel like it would be an easy decision between you two and him" Lee teased. That earned a solid knee to the shin from Fred sitting across from him. Rosie stifled her laugh as best she could.

"It's hard to compete with him, though."

"Mr Overachiever"

"Head Prefect, Head Boy, Gryffindor's Golden Boy" the twins chimed.

"What's Gryffindor?" Rosie interrupted, met with aghast expressions on all who were in the room.

"'What's Gryffindor?', she asks" George scoffed with a teasing smile.

"Hey! It's hardly fair that you can make fun of me for not knowing, you three have had a head start!" Rosie jabbed back, folding her arms.

"Well to give you an answer; Only the best house at Hogwarts, especially since we'll be in it" Fred added.

"Who's to say you two will even get sorted into Gryffindor?" Lee piped up.

"Destiny"

"Fate"

"A Weasley has never been in any other house".

"We sure hope we don't break that trend".

"We wouldn't be welcomed home for Christmas with the family".

"Or permanently, now that I think about it".

Rosie, losing track, and dissatisfied with their answer, pressed on "How would you get into Gryffindor?".

"You have to be sorted into it, every student is sorted in one of four houses when they arrive; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin" Lee offered. "It's all done based on your most dominant traits. Every house has a common room and dormitories, a designated table in the Great Hall, as well as Quidditch teams. It all gets awfully competitive since there's also a points system".

Rosie's eyes widened, her stomach churning in knots of nerves. What if she knew nobody in her house? What if she didn't fit in with her house? Would they let her change?

"Who's to say you fit under a certain box?" Rosie asked, somewhat curious.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Lee.

"Well, what if you don't necessarily identify with one house?"

"I've heard that sorting takes into consideration your decision, but best to keep an open mind about these things! It all works out in the end... my cousin, for example, went to Hogwarts about ten years ago, was sorted into Hufflepuff, when her younger brother was sorted in Slytherin. They both were thrilled in the end" Lee reassured as best he could. "But, people end up mixing with the other houses anyway, so I wouldn't worry about it".

Rosie grinned at Lee, hoping what he said was true.

✵

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: one thing I always not when writing Fred & George is that their dialogue in my head is so fast-paced... so I hope you were able to follow and that it sounded like them! I keep having to remind myself that they're only eleven in this too so.... More mischief from these two yet to come... and a timejump after the next chapter!! Let me know what you're thinking so far.


	4. chapter 3, beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie makes some unlikely friends, and she meets her new home for the first time.

**[c h a p t e r t h r e e , b e g i n n i n g s]**

**_[Hogwarts Express, 1989]_ **

"Anything from the trolley, dears?".

The trolley cart pulled up, pulling the four out of their enamoured discussions. Fred immediately knew what to buy, listing off the names of all these strange confectioneries that Rosie had never heard the likes of before.

"Rosalie, do you want anything?" Fred asked, halfway through listing his selection. Rosie, having lost her appetite that morning due to nerves and not wanting to look like a fool, opted to simply shake her head. She didn't want to embarrass herself further with her lack of Wizarding knowledge, even if it was just confectionery.

George noticed this, and as the trolley pulled away and the four of them continued their discussion, George silently began picking through his Bertie Botts Every Flavour beans, concentrating at great length to make sure to pick out the best flavours, and none of the horrendous ones like vomit, rotten egg and booger.

Meanwhile, Lee and Fred were deep into a healthy debate regarding which Quidditch team was better. Rosie by this point had lost the conversation entirely, mostly because she had no idea what this Quidditch business was, only listening absentmindedly and laughing when the two shot japes at one another.

She had played schoolyard rugby back home, enjoying the sport immensely. She wondered if it were a similar thing.

Highly unlikely, by her best estimates.

She glanced out the window, condensation building on the windows the further they left the city and into the countryside. The rolling hills, she noted, began turning more into sprawling mountains, and deep loch's, with grass greener than Rosie, had ever seen. It had also started to rain softly. She watched absentmindedly as the rain fell from the foggy window like slow tears. She traced her finger across the cold glass, a steady stream of condensation running down her index finger to her wrist, under her sleeve. Her eye-line then quite accidentally fell on the boy sitting in front of her, who was too only half-interested in the conversation going on beside them.

He felt her eyes boring into the top of his head and looked up, shooting her a small grin.

Rosie felt her cheeks heat, embarrassed she had been caught staring.

George wordlessly prompted Rosie to hold out her hand, and without asking, Rosie opened her palm flat, and the boy dropped a small selection of what looked like jelly beans into it.

"Will these explode, or change the colour of my hair?" Rosie asked, wondering to herself why he was so willing to share. It almost seemed too good to be true.

"No, but there may be a few rogue flavours in there. I did try my best to make sure you got the best ones, no promises though... the colours all look the same" George explained, popping one into his mouth, and trying his best not to grimace. She glanced at his facial expressions, suddenly concerned.

"This one may or may not be bogey..."

Rosie laughed "Why on earth would I want to eat anything that tastes like bogey?".

George grinned back, shrugging as he responded: "It's all part of the fun".

Astonishingly, she shrugged, trusting her new friend enough to pop one of the beans into her mouth and began chewing.

"What do you taste?"

Rosie tried her best to keep her expression neutral for dramatic effect, tentatively taking bites, and to her surprise, it tasted like nothing she had ever experienced before in an ordinary jelly-bean. She glanced up, noticing the boy stare apprehensively, and so she explained: "It tastes... like a dessert, with pastry, chocolate, cream... an eclair?"

George's grinned, "Hey, no cheating!"

"How could I cheat? Did I get it right?!" the girl responded, in an excited tone that hadn't been brought to life before this point.

If his older twin beside him noticed the exchange, and the soft spot his brother seemed to have developed for this girl, he didn't utter a single word about it to him. It was a glance that if you blinked at you would've missed, but Fred of all people knew his twin almost better than he knew himself.

✵

The sky had begun to darken into an inky black, Rosie nearly dosing from the long journey, suddenly awoken by a wrapping of knuckles on the door to their compartment and an older boy, who looked deceptively familiar swung it open.

"Nice to see you two have found somebody to pester" he announced, leaning against the door frame.

"Nice to see you're deciding to annoy first years in your spare time, Charlie" George shot back with a wink. "Have you got no friends after all?".

Rosie would've been more alarmed if she hadn't been listening with great intent to their earlier conversation. This was the infamous Charlie Weasley. He was a particular favourite of their brothers, a touch more lighthearted and attuned to their idea of humour, unlike Percy, and at times Bill, according to Fred.

Charlie turned to Rosie properly this time, shooting her a wink, the girl feeling a little exposed, particularly as Lee had scooted off to the bathroom. His hair was a touch more unruly than his younger brothers', and his face was dotted with light freckles, a trait that had skipped the twins. His face, Rosie noted, was sharper, more defined, having lost some early signs of boyhood, and tanned from the sun. She found it suited him.

She cursed her cheeks turning a deep shade of red.

"So you're not going to introduce us then?" Charlie pressed his brothers, nodding his head towards Rosie, sliding the door from behind him and stepping in.

" _They_ don't have to," Rosie spoke, with confidence, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her hair, embarrassed it had fallen loose out of her braid. "I'm Rosalie".

Fred stifled a laugh. George nearly blanched.

_Girls._

"Pleasure's all mine" Charlie returned, waving his hand dramatically into a blase bow. Rosie had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from grinning like a nutter. She couldn't help it; he was a charmer.

"What brings you down this end?" Fred asked his brother, chucking him a pumpkin pastie, which hit him in the head. He barely even flinched.

"Fulfilling my duties as prefect, welcoming in the new students" Charlie shrugged, taking a bite of his snack. Rosie tried not to stare at his mouth as he talked and ate.

She wasn't sure what had gotten into her.

"I actually have been asked to pass the message down, we're around 30 minutes from arrival, so I'd suggest getting ahead of the curve and changing into your uniforms".

✵

The next hour passed by in a blur, notably once the train had halted. Before long, Rosie found herself separated from her friends, in a bid to get dressed and grab her luggage. The platform was a maze of children, the likes of whom Rosie hadn't noted before. There were so many unfamiliar faces, ranging in age, height; the lot. She wondered how soon she would feel familiarity around these people. She had come from a school which boasted 60 students from various settlements along the coast, which was hardly the case here, given these wizards and witches hailed from all over the United Kingdom.

The Prefects called for all First Years, escorting them to a smaller cluster, eventually greeted by a man Rosie could've sworn was the height of a two-story building. But everybody was tall compared to Rosie at this age. Her father joked that she was vertically challenged, and swore if she ate more of her greens, it wouldn't be the case. She shot back that she would instead learn a spell to grow a couple of inches taller. Right now she desperately needed it, as she was practically swimming in her uniform. Her dad, like all of her other school uniforms, reasoned that she would grow into it, but so far she had no such luck. Instead, her grey knit drooped over her hands, and so she tried her best to subtly roll them up without anybody noticing.

They were escorted into small boats, and a body bumped next to her suddenly, causing Rosie to turn to her side to assess the new companion. Much to her embarrassment, it was an unfamiliar face staring back at her with a wide beam, belonging to a girl. She had short brown hair, styled into a sharp bob, and despite the dark, Rosie assessed that her eyes were deep chocolate. The colour was peculiar in candlelight, like a deep black with caramel red reflects, and went well with the striking angle. Her skin was pale, and her cheeks blemished with a rosy tint.

"Hi, there!" the girl beamed, Rosie, noting her infectious smile and strong Scottish accent. She was strikingly pretty.

"Hey" Rosie couldn't help but smile back.

"Hope you don't mind, but I don't know anybody here. Can I sit here with you?"

"Of course!"

The girl introduced herself as Eleanor McKay but insisted she was "Ellie" as Eleanor was a name her mother called her when she was cross. Rosie noted her outgoing nature, confidence that few eleven-year-olds possessed. She reminded her of her friend back home.

The two were engrossed in a conversation soon enough and before long found themselves floating across the calm waters of The Great Lake, taking into view the candlelit castle, their new home. Rosie was knocked speechless, unable to comprehend the size and expanse of the place. It was magnificent. Spires taller than any other she had seen, glistening candles shining through the tall windows, the inky black hills framing the background.

"I think I need somebody to pinch me" Rosie whispered to her new friend.

"Save those for later... I hardly think this will be the last of it".

The two girls pulled their eyes away from the view and chuckled to themselves, brimming with unkempt excitement.

✵

Hogwarts was beyond Rosie's wildest imagination. Her father had told her it was a castle, but this was extravagance itself (and a far cry from her cottage back home, boasting four rooms in total). She wondered to herself how many rooms were inside and if she would ever get around to counting them all.

Walking through the grand entrance, she looked up, noting the minute details of the stone walls, still possessing many of the trappings of a building that held so much history, so many stories. She was now living amongst it.

The group were led through the castle, towards what looked to be a grand hall. Tall wooden doors opened simultaneously on both sides to reveal the room. Rosie had to contain a gasp. The hall was lit with many floating candles, dotted like stars. There were four large tables, running the length of the room, with many faces turning to hail the entry of the group of first years. At the head of the room stood a wizard, immediately familiar to Rosie; Albus Dumbledore.

He welcomed the gathering inside, and Rosie tried her best to keep her head down, mostly out of her own innate shyness.

As the procession was gathered to the front of the hall, as instructed, they lined in alphabetical order and awaited the Sorting. Whilst many around her were practically shaking with anticipation, Rosie was a bundle of nerves. Perhaps Lee had left out that tiny detail; it would be in front of everybody.

One by one, each person's name was called, and one by one, they took their seat in their new House.

Her name was eventually called, echoing like thunder through the Great Hall;

"Rosalie Mallard".

As she tentatively took her seat, her cheeks flamed with the prospect of everybody's eyes on her. The hall fell into quiet apprehension. She didn't cope well with everybody watching her. It was undoubtedly one hundred times worse than the time she was in her spelling bee competition finals, despite winning by a landslide.

Her heart was racing at a quick pace, swearing if people were to hold their breath then they could hear it for themselves; a rapid _thump thump thump._

The hat was rested gently upon her head, and as it did, she took a deep breath in. Luckily she had watched enough people go before her to not get a shock when the hat started to talk.

"Rosalie... Yes... I see a sharp mind, brimming with opportunity... a loyal friend, fierce in mind and matter... one who would fit comfortably in any place she is put. My, you are hard to place indeed" the hat mused. Rosalie's knuckles were white and hadn't realised she had been holding her breath. Fred and George looking on, awaiting their turn, had never seen the girl look paler.

"You're curious in nature, loyal... courage yet to be unlocked...". Rosalie pondered this; she did not see herself as incredibly courageous. Sure, she had stepped foot on the train that morning. That was the first hurdle. But, she could not see for herself the potential she had. She was comfortable in her ranks; she craved knowledge, had a wild imagination and had so many questions about the world.

Was the hat seeing something she could not?

"So be it...RAVENCLAW!"

Rosalie looked up to an eruption of cheers, not just from the table that appeared to be Ravenclaw but from nearly the entire room. Her eyes landed on the twins who stood in the line before her, smiles wide as ever, congratulating her.

George would only admit it much later on that he felt a little dejected.

She felt herself let go of the breath she had been holding and joined the Ravenclaw table as the older students welcomed her over with open arms. Much to her relief, Ellie, who was next in the order had been sorted into Ravenclaw and very keenly took her seat next to Rosie, her shoulders squared back and eyes brimming with pride.

As for her other friends, it was to a little disappointment, but no surprise, that they had all been sorted into separate houses. However, she recalled from the journey that a Weasley always belonged in Gryffindor, and for that, she was happy. Although, had she wondered if they had been joking about their mother not welcoming them home if the outcome had been otherwise.

As they all took their seats and the feast began, a great sense of calm settled over Rosalie; the first since her arrival that day. As she looked around, marvelling at the pure magic, bouncing off the walls of stone, and held within it young wizards and witches; she felt a great sense of belonging. One that she had not felt for quite some time. It was not that her life had made her feel ostracised from the world around her up to this point. No - it was more something had been restraining her for the longest time, and suddenly the noose around her had been set loose.

It was then that she knew; she was finally home.

✵

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> authors note: and now we go to a timejump! let's get onto the truly exciting parts that I cannot wait for you all to see ;) 
> 
> trust me... you're in for a wild ride


End file.
